Gravity
by gd20
Summary: Brittana future fic inspired by the song Gravity by Sara Bareilles
1. Chapter 1

It had been three years. Three years since you had seen or heard from her. Three years and you still were just as in love with her as the first time you kissed her in high school. It felt like only yesterday that you and the blonde were hand-in-hand, laughing and flirting while picking out an apartment in Chicago. Could it really have been three years? How fucking pathetic. She's probably with someone right now, you think, doing all the things we used to. The thought alone makes you shudder.

Time is a crazy thing. Three years can really feel like 30 when you're stuck in a life of memories. All you can do is think about Brittany. Whether it's simply remembering how gorgeous she is or replaying her dancing through the kitchen singing "Ain't No Mountain High" at the top of her lungs; the blonde never escapes your mind. Out of everything that goes through your head, the one thing that you think about the most is what went wrong. In your six years of being together, you could count the number of actual fights you had with her on one hand. So why did it end? You'd think three years would be enough time for you to figure it out, but that question still haunts you.

Yes, you admit that having a girlfriend who's a professional dancer that constantly goes on tour was not the easiest thing. It meant a lot of phone calls, skype conversations, and even more loneliness. But for you, it was all worth it. Brittany was your soul mate. Who wouldn't go through a few tough weeks to spend the next few with the hottest girl in the world? It was a no brainer for you. And you couldn't be more proud of Brittany for living out her dreams. Watching her perform on stage in front of thousands of people doing what she loved the most made you happier than almost anything in the world.

When you were in college, you were busy with classes so being away from Brittany wasn't all that bad. You graduated with a bachelors degree in business, but with the shitty economy you were never able to find a steady job. Since your best friend Puck was the owner of a bar & grill called Fat Bottoms, he hooked you up with a job. It was pretty awesome working for him because he gave you extra shifts and paid you pretty well for being just a hostess.

You thought that after a few years you and your girlfriend had finally gotten used to the touring life, but things took a turn for the worse when Brittany came home in February after finishing a winter tour. She had a three week break before she had to leave again for a short spring tour, and you couldn't wait to spend those three weeks soaking up every moment with her that you could. But something was different. She was different. She was distant. She never seemed to be completely present, it was like part of her was somewhere else. You couldn't help but notice that you felt like she was hiding something. Her kisses were empty. At night you searched to find the Brittany you remembered. The Brittany that couldn't wait to tear your clothes off and fool around. The Brittany who loved to be touched that certain way that you only you knew how. The Brittany who wanted to do nothing but fall asleep with you in her arms.

A few times you had caught her crying. When she wouldn't tell you what was wrong, you couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen..it was just a matter of time. You did the best that you could to compensate for this undeniable feeling. You tried to be the best girlfriend possible, doing everything that could think of to make her return to her old self. You surprised her with flowers, took her out to her favorite restaurants, and you even bought her a cat. She named him Mitten because, "it rhymes with Kitten!" And because his fur was all black except for his front right paw which was white. No matter how much you tried to despise the cat, Brittany's love for the thing made it irresistible. Despite your efforts, you ultimately saw her return to her newfound gloomy state.

After about a week of trying to ignore these signs, you finally decided to confront her. You remember the conversation perfectly. Hell, it was practically a tape that you rewound and watched a million times in your head. It was a Sunday night around 7 o'clock. You were wearing a Cubs t-shirt and jeans. She was wearing an old Cheerios sweatshirt and your black shorts. She had just showered so she smelled amazing. You were cutting up some vegetables for a salad while Brittany was looking through a photo album at the island in the kitchen. You caught her looking at a picture of the two of you in your old choir room in high school. She smiled briefly, but then a flash of sadness came over her face.

"Britt, what's wrong?" you asked, hoping that that simple question would lead to the answer you wanted.

"Nothing, why?" Brittany barely looked up from the photos, thinking nothing of the question.

"Look at me," you said, sternly, putting down the knife and focusing on the blonde. As Brittany's blue eyes met yours, you could see her realize what was coming. "I know you. I know something's wrong. You've been acting differently for a while now. Will you talk to me? I feel like we've been avoiding this conversation since you got home."

Brittany paused, it was clear that she was thinking about how she was going spit out what had been churning in her mind.

"I..I know," her voice was timid and full of heartache. "I've just been doing a lot of thinking lately, that's all."

"Thinking about what?" you asked, as you came around the counter and took a seat next to her at the island.

"Us, mostly," she said. Her short answer made you think that she was going to try and dismiss this talk.

"Care to elaborate?"

"Well..it's just, I just have been feeling like I don't know if I can keep up with the whole touring thing."

"What do you mean? You love touring."

"I know...I love the performing part. But the traveling..I hate the traveling. I hate being away from you," she confessed. You could see her blue eyes turn misty, "I hate leaving you and making you wait for me. I hate thinking that I'm holding you down. I hate thinking that I'm missing things at home. I hate thinking that you're going to meet someone else..someone available..someone who isn't gone all the time like me."

You scooted your chair closer and grabbed her hand, holding it with both of yours.

"B, that will never happen. You don't ever have to worry about that. I only have eyes for you, babe. I love _you_, no one else. You know that, don't you?"

"I know...I know that. And I love you too. But when I'm the road I can't stop myself from thinking that you would be better without me. I have nothing to do but think when I'm on the bus for hours or flying from airport to airport. I wake up in a different city and I wake up worrying about you. It's killing me. I don't know if I can do this anymore," her tears were unstoppable now.

"Well, don't think that kind of stuff," you said as you tried to comfort her. You held her hand tighter, "I could never be better without you..I would be nothing without you."

"I..I don't know.." she said, barely able to speak anymore.

"Come here," you said as you stood up and opened your arms. She stood up too, and you embraced her strongly, trying to make any uncertainty that she was feeling disappear. You fought back tears as you held her...was she really doubting your relationship? As she pulled away you had to make sure she believed you,

"Britt, you need to know that I wouldn't have it any other way. I love you so much. I love that you're on tour, I love that you're living your dream. And because of that, I can deal with a few lonely weeks. Please say you understand."

"Okay..I understand.." she said, looking down at your hands. She continued, her voice shaking, "I just love you. I love you so much that it hurts..and I don't know if it's supposed to be that way."

"Babe, it's okay," you said, softly. You hugged her again as you tried to think of words to say that would make her feel better. You tried but you couldn't because you loved her so much it hurt too. All of the pain that came with her traveling, it was all part of loving her. You ached for her when she was gone, and when she was here you dreaded her leaving again. It was tough, but if you knew anything, you knew that you belonged with Brittany.

"You're the only thing I care about," you whispered in her ear, arms still wrapped around her. She was crying harder now. You let her go and wiped her tears away.

"I know," she choked out. Her blue eyes had faded to gray, and you both sat there for a long time. Hands intertwined, time seemed to stop. You hoped what you said was enough to assure her that you were meant to be, that this wasn't a mistake.

After a while, she calmed down. Her eyes restored back to their normal state of blue and her breathing returned to its normal pattern. She looked at you, smiled, leaned in and kissed you. It was brief, but passionate. Her lips moved in sync with yours and you questioned how you could ever kiss anyone else in your life. As she pulled away, you kept your eyes closed, wishing it would never end. It was funny how one kiss from the blonde could make you forget that anything was wrong to begin with.

"Let's eat, shall we?" she said, as she walked around the counter to finish making dinner.

Relieved, you agreed.

The rest of the night went by quickly. Dinner was a blur of small talk blended with periods of awkwardness and accompanied by multiple glasses of wine. It was obvious that the two of you were still thinking about the conversation you'd just had. It seemed that you had convinced Brittany of your love, but you couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking. You kept telling yourself that everything would better in the morning. It would all be normal again then. But for now, worry took over. The more you drank, the more comfortable you both felt. By the time your plates were clean, you were more than a little tipsy.

You cleaned up while Brittany put in a movie and climbed into bed. Sleepy, hazy and warm, you joined her after changing into pajamas. Since you had spent the day working a double shift, you were too exhausted to do anything but sleep. You rolled over, faced Brittany and cuddled up next to her. You wrapped your arm around her waist and rested your head on her shoulder like you had thousands of times before.

"I love you," you said, feeling heavy. You looked into the blonde's crystal blue eyes to see that she was wide awake.

"I love you too," she said, and before your eyes closed for the night you noticed she was biting her lip, on the verge of tears. You wanted to stay awake, but you couldn't fight the sleep that stole you away.


	2. Chapter 2

When your alarm screeched its wake up call at 9:00 am, you could barely open your eyes. Your body was evidently still suffering from the amount of wine you had drank the night before. Sore and stiff, there was no way you were ready to face the day just yet. The alarm was on Brittany's side of the bed, so she it was her responsibility to hit the snooze button so you could both escape to your lingering dreams for just a few more minutes. When the alarm wouldn't stop its incessant ringing, you forced yourself to speak.

"Britt, shut that thing off. It's totally killin' my mood," you said, eyes still closed.

You waited for a response, for the alarm to shut off...but you heard nothing. When you rolled over, Brittany's place in bed was still warm but she was no where in sight.

"Ughhhh," you moaned as you reluctantly crawled to the other side of the bed and made the ringing stop. As you slammed your hand into the snooze button, your fingers graced a piece of paper that drifted to the floor. Dazed and confused, you grabbed the note, wiped the sleep from your eyes and read,

_San,_

_I'm so sorry. I just can't do this anymore. _

_It's better for you. I can't cause you anymore pain. _

_Please don't call._

_I love you._

_B_

You had to read the note eight times before the words sunk in..before the words felt real. Even then, you didn't believe them. You immediately searched her closet to find that almost everything was gone. You flew through her dresser drawers, scrambled through her cabinets in the bathroom, and checked her side of the front hall closet. In a clumsy and deranged state, you turned the apartment inside out and found that the only thing she didn't take was the god damn cat. All of her stuff was gone. She was gone.

So many emotions were boiling up inside you that the only reaction you could muster up was a laugh. Before you knew it, you were on your knees laughing so hard that you were crying. The cries turns to sobs, and eventually you were practically convulsing. You couldn't catch your breath, and you didn't know if you even wanted to. How could this be happening? How could she just up and leave you? It wasn't real, you decided. This couldn't be real. Brittany was your best friend. The one person you could depend on. She was your everything. You called her and it went straight to voicemail, but that didn't stop you from calling over and over again. You never left a message, scared that anything you would say would just make it worse. So you texted her instead,

"_Please call me. Come home."_

You moved your way to the bed, curled your body up in a ball and just laid there. The cries didn't stop, and after what felt like hours, you were pretty sure that you didn't have any tears left to cry. You screamed with discomfort. Everything hurt. Thinking hurt. Feeling hurt. Moving hurt. Your body seemed to be shutting down. Within seconds, you were unconscious, sound asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

The next month was easily the worst of your life.

The first few days after she left, you were a wreck. Puck describes that period as your "ultimate rock bottom". You ditched work, drank far too much liquor and never left the apartment. You couldn't eat. Food just didn't have a taste anymore. And forget sleeping. A cycle of hopeless thoughts kept you awake each night. By the end of the month, you had lost almost twenty pounds and barely had a job. If it wasn't for your relationship with Puck then you would've definitely been unemployed.

Nothing could comfort you. Puck and some buddies from the bar tried but unless they were bringing you food or letting you cry on their shoulders, they weren't much help. Mitten's presence relieved you at times. You quickly became inseparable from the quirky kitten that Brittany left behind. For a while you thought that she would come back for him...you hoped and you prayed, but she never did. You continued to call her, but she never answered. You tried her friends from tour, her family back in Ohio, and all of the friends you'd met since you moved to Chicago, but it was no use. They either hadn't heard from Brittany or they just didn't answer.

After two months you were numb. The tears had stopped coming and you stopped feeling sad...but that didn't mean you weren't feeling better either. Numbness took over. You started playing catch up by taking as many shifts at Fat Bottoms as you could. Suddenly you found yourself submerged in work. There was no time to feel anything or to deal with any emotions. You simply pushed all your thoughts aside to a dark corner of your mind. You didn't want to think about what happened; you just wanted to forget. And that's exactly what this work load did.

One night after a long day of taking peoples orders and being hit on by old, drunk and disgusting men, you came home to find a keyboard sitting in your living room. Ordinarily you would've been freaked out that someone had been in your apartment, but there were only two people who had a key: Puck and Brittany. Attached was a scribbled note, and from the handwriting you could tell it was Puck's.

_Found this old thing when I was cleaning out my apartment the other day. Thought you might want to borrow it. I know you gave up the whole music thing or whatever, but I still think you should give it a try. Especially now. The guitar can be my best friend sometimes..maybe the piano can be the same for you. Picked up some sheet music for you, just in case. _

You sighed, pulled up a chair and started ditzing around with the keys. As you sat and felt the pearly black and whites under your fingertips, you remembered why gave up music to begin with.

In high school, you were apart of your school's glee club. Back in those days, you were a total diva. Not like you weren't now, but then it was different. Then you were a downright bitch. You were a bitch because you were unhappy, and you were unhappy because you weren't being honest with yourself. You had been in love with Brittany since your freshman year, but it took you a while to admit it. Once you finally did the summer before your junior year, you had an even harder time admitting that loving your best friend meant that you were a lesbian. You couldn't deal with the labels or the judgments, so instead of facing them you hid in the closet.

You used music as a shield, as a way to make your classmates believe you were something that you weren't. Instead of singing songs about how you were truly feeling, you would sing what other people expected you to. Songs about boys, sleeping around and living without consequences became your go-to solos. Music became a lie. For a while it drove you and Brittany apart. She hated what you were doing and it was clearly taking a toll on your relationship. With each solo you sang, you could feel yourself losing Brittany.

Once you realized what was happening, you stopped singing lies and came out to the glee club and the entire school. You still remember holding Brittany's hand, standing in front of the choir room and telling your teammates that you were dating. You especially remember the look on Brittany's face as she made the announcement. Her blue eyes were shining and her smile was so big that it was contagious. It was pure happiness. One look at the blonde in that moment and any doubts you had vanished. You felt exhilarated, and you were at peace for the first time in a long time. You and Brittany spent your last two years of high school together without hiding, and that was all you ever wanted.

Coming out was the hardest thing you ever had to do, to date. After conquering that battle, singing only reminded you of the period in your life where you couldn't accept yourself; the period in your life when you were completely miserable. Sure, you stayed in glee club and sang the group songs, but only for Brittany's sake. You knew if you quit she would be upset, so you stayed and played along...but you never sang a solo again. Even outside of glee when the blonde begged you to sing to her, you refused. Instead you would simply put on her favorite CD.

Once you graduated, pursuing music seemed stupid. Yes, you were good enough to do something with it if you wanted, it was no secret that you had one of the best voices in glee club. But you saw no point in trying to make a career out of something that didn't make you happy anymore. Music was a part of your past, and you liked to keep it that way.

Now, years later, sitting at the key board, you couldn't help but admit that you did miss singing. Puck had left you the music book to Adele's album,_19_, which was one of your favorites. You had learned how to read music in glee club, so it wouldn't take long for you to refresh your memory. Even though you had never played piano before, you were pretty sure it was nothing you couldn't handle. After googling some quick tips on piano for beginners, you were on your way.


	4. Chapter 4

That keyboard became your saving grace. Over the next few months, playing became your top priority. Whenever you weren't at work or sleeping, you were attached to the keyboard. It became an obsession; an outlet for you to express everything you were feeling about Brittany. All the heartache, depression, emptiness, and frustration poured out through your fingers and turned into beautiful melodies. You started keeping a journal and your entries became poems and those poems eventually became songs. All the thoughts you had tucked away in the back of your mind came rushing out. Before you knew it, you had written over 15 songs, all about Brittany.

You found that music had transformed itself into the best way of coping with your heartbreak. No longer was it used as a platform for dishonesty. It was now your lifeline, the one thing that kept you sane. The one thing that reminded you that what you had with Brittany was real and you weren't crazy for still loving her. You were forever indebted to Puck for his genius idea.

After a year, you had mastered over 50 songs and had written over 30 of your own. You saved up enough money to buy yourself a digital piano with pedals and tons of electronic features, which only expanded your creativity. Most of the songs you wrote were attempts at explaining why Brittany really left. Why she didn't handle it differently and why she hadn't contacted you yet. You tried to understand. No matter what angle you looked at the situation from, you still couldn't figure it out.

Often times you found yourself getting so angry that it drove you to tears. You tried to hate her for it. After all, what she did fucking sucked. It would have been easier for you to hate her, you were sure of it. Hate was so much easier to manage. But no matter how much you wanted to or how many songs you wrote about it, you could never hate her. The love you had for her was real, it couldn't be turned into something as awful as hate. You would have followed her around the world. You would have done anything for her, why didn't she see that? Why was your love not enough?

You thought that as time went on your feelings for her would fade, that they would naturally just disappear. You waited for the day that you would wake up without feeling a throbbing sensation in your chest, but it never happened. No, for you it was the opposite. As each day passed, your craving and need for the blonde only increased.

About half of the music you had written were depressing songs filled with hopeless hooks and sauntering piano. The other half, however, were love songs. Undeniably catchy, love songs, for that matter. Searching out songs with relatable lyrics became an obsession for you. You enjoyed taking songs apart and putting them back to together, creating your version of the melody you loved. Adele's album,_19, _became a Bible of sorts to you. It was a reference anytime you were feeling vulnerable. Of course, by now the sheet music that Puck had gotten you was useless since you had memorized every song. You were convinced that _Make You Feel My Love_ was written about your endless love for Brittany. You played it almost every day.

Two years after Brittany left, you decided that it was time to somehow piece your life back together and move on. You still hadn't heard from her..not even a measly text or email, so you assumed that she had moved on. Often times you created these elaborate stories about what she was doing now. You imagined her on world tours, performing 7 nights a week for people who didn't even speak english. You pictured her starting her own dance company and training the most talented young men and women in the country. Imagining her success made the the thought of moving on bearable, but whenever you began to wonder if she was seeing anyone, you couldn't take it. Whenever you imagined anyone gently holding her, touching her angelic skin or kissing her strawberry lips, the door you had been trying to keep closed for years swung open and you couldn't stop the charge of heartbreaking pain. There was no denying that you were still just as in love with her as the day you came out to your glee club in high school.


	5. Chapter 5

By the time your three year anniversary of being single passed, Puck had made you the co-owner of Fat Bottoms. He hated running the business side of things anyway and couldn't believe he hadn't done it sooner. You took over the bar's finances and he focused on the booze. Once Puck found out about your "mad piano skills," he did everything in his power to get you to play at the open mic the bar hosts every Friday night. He bugged you about it 24/7; every time you turned a corner he was there holding a open mic flyer in your face. He tried bribing you with cash but you still refused. You just didn't see the point in performing again. Music had found its way back into your life, but its purpose was private. There was no need to share your songs with anyone else.

One Friday night, Puck drunkenly took the stage and started chanting your name. Soon enough, the whole bar caught on and they wouldn't take no for an answer. A couple of waitresses dragged you on stage where Puck revealed his old keyboard; the one you that had practically saved you from dying of a broken heart. The sight the familiar black and whites instantly calmed you down. As soon as you sat down at the piano, the performing instinct in you took over. You grabbed the mic and started some banter with the 20 people in the crowd. You introduced yourself, cracked some jokes and warned the rowdy bunch to not to make fun because this was your first time singing in public in years.

You decided that it'd be best to start off with a song that you were most comfortable with. Without even thinking twice, you started playing the opening notes to _Make You Feel My Love_. The song was ingrained in your brain and your fingers easily glided along the keys, obeying your muscle memory. As you sang, you could hear the crowd go silent in awe as they listened. You hit every note perfectly and your voice was filled with so much emotion that the audience couldn't resist in sympathizing with the lyrics. When you finished, there was a long pause before anyone even moved. Once Puck began to clap, the crowd seemed to snap out of their trance. They erupted with applause and were hooked into your performance from that moment on. You followed your first song with a couple of more cheerful originals and ended with a cover of _Maybe_ by Ingrid Michaelson. When you finished the last line of the song, the crowd's warm standing ovation almost drove you to tears.

That night a tradition was born. Every Friday from then on you sang at the open mic and captivated your audience without fail. As the weeks went on, you noticed that the crowd sizes seemed to be growing. Before you knew it, you had your own little fan base that showed up every Friday. You were now singing for almost 50 people every time you took the stage. If someone would've told you that you'd be singing in public and actually enjoying it a few months before, you wouldn't have believed them. You discovered that singing served as a different kind of therapy than writing. Sharing your story made you feel less alone and a part of something bigger than yourself. You became addicted to the energy the crowd provided you and once again, you were completely and totally indebted to Puck for making you perform in the first place.

...

With summer around the corner, Puck decided that he wanted to join you on stage for a few songs. Ecstatic, you planned a whole event around it. You made flyers calling it, "Fat Bottom's Summer Kickoff," invited all your friends and promoted it around the bar all week. You owed Puck so much for everything he had done for you over the last three years. Looking back, there's no way you would have made it without him. He was your rock, your only support system, and the only person who stood by you when you weren't yourself. Ever since he lent you his keyboard, you had been trying to find out a way to properly thank him and this was the perfect opportunity. You wanted him to feel like a rock star that he truly was.

You had to admit that you couldn't wait to perform with Puck again. It had been forever since you'd sung with anyone, so when Friday night rolled around you couldn't keep your mind off the stage. The afternoon dragged on but around 7:00 the place began to fill up pretty quickly. Soon, you were surrounded by familiar faces and more love than you had felt in a long time. Some of your old friends from glee club even showed up. The food and drinks were flowing and by 9:00, you and Puck took the stage for your acoustic show.

"Alright, fuckers! Who's ready to party!"

The oneliner from Puck was all it took to get the audience on their feet. Since this night was all about Puck, you let him choose the songs. He was a big Mumford & Sons fan so the first song he sang was Little Lion Man. It wasn't the same without the banjo but nevertheless it was a great crowd pleaser. Puck had the whole place yelling the chorus with him and between the verses and the choruses the two of you were jamming so hard the stage was shaking. You couldn't help but laugh as Puck strummed away like a mad man.

The night continued the same way, with Puck rocking out and you complementing his rough voice with a smooth harmony. The set list for the performance consisted of five songs, and your duo ended the night with stunning cover of Sunday Morning. After the final notes, you gave your best friend and stage partner a hug and bowed for the crowd.

"Alright everyone, I've had way too much fun for one night. I'm gonna turn it over to Santana and let her finish this thing off right," Puck said. Before joining his friends in the crowd, he hugged you again and thanked for you an amazing night.

You suddenly found yourself alone on stage with the crowd waiting on you. Caught off guard, you were slightly unprepared for a solo. It would've been lame for you to sing one of your regulars, so you decided to play the song that you had most recently learned which was Gravity by Sara Bareilles.

Throughout this hectic day of excitement and last minute scrambling, your mind had almost forgotten about Brittany. It was unusual for a day to go by without thinking about her at one time or another. As you started singing, memories of Brittany crashed into you like a tidal wave.

_Something always brings me back to you._

_It never takes too long._

_No matter what I say or do _

_I still feel you here 'til the moment I'm gone.  
><em>

_You hold me without touch._

_You keep me without chains._

_I never wanted anything so much than to drown in your love _

_and not feel your rain.  
><em>

_Set me free, leave me be. _

_I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity._

_Here I am and I stand so tall, just the way I'm supposed to be._

_But you're on to me and all over me.  
><em>

Your mind was playing tricks. Eyes closed, fingers still gracefully moving across the keys, you were now in your living room. It was as if you were a fly on a wall; you could see yourself cuddled up with the blonde in your usual places on the couch watching her favorite movie. You opened your eyes and you were back in Fat Bottoms. Wanting to hold on to whatever part of Brittany you had left, you closed your eyes quickly and returned to her memory.

_You loved me cause I'm fragile._

_When I thought that I was strong._

_But you touch me for a little while and all my fragile strength is gone.  
><em>

_Set me free, leave me be. _

_I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity._

_Here I am and I stand so tall, just the way I'm supposed to be._

_But you're on to me and all over me.  
><em>

Fighting off visions of the blonde that appeared every time you blinked, you dug deep for the last part of the song. Your fingers pushed hard on the keys, making the piano sing along with you.

_I live here on my knees as I try to make you see _

_that you're everything I think I need here on the ground._

_But you're neither friend nor foe though I can't seem to let you go._

_The one thing that I still know is that you're keeping me down_

_You're on to me, on to me, and all over..._

_Something always brings me back to you._

_It never takes too long_.

Your voice lingered on the last note, and as you sung the last lyric you noticed this was the first time you had made it through the song without crying. You blamed it on the crowd who was now on their feet, applauding you to no end. Puck rushed on stage,

"How about that! How about THAT! Isn't she fantastic? Don't worry, people, she'll be here all night."


	6. Chapter 6

The rest of the night was filled with laughter, photo ops, and catching up with your friends. It felt like you were in college again, and when the night began to wind down you were sad to see everyone leave. You stayed late with Puck to help clean up and the two of you made plans to sing together again, which you couldn't have been happier about. As you parted ways for the evening, you felt content for the first time in a while. Every so often the thought of Puck bobbing his head back and fourth, jamming on his guitar with his tongue sticking out made you laugh. You were about two blocks away from home when you heard the quick paced clicking of heels behind you.

"Santana!...San, wait up!"

The sound of her voice stopped you dead in your tracks. Scared your mind was playing tricks on you again, you couldn't look over your shoulder. You waited to hear it again.

"San," she spoke again, this time it was softer.

You turned around and held your breath. The blonde stood only five feet away from you. Her proximity made you weak.

"Wh-what..what are you doing here?" you stuttered.

"I...I couldn't stay away any longer. I had to see you," she said. Her words took a moment to register and while you processed her presence you noticed that she looked different. She was gorgeous, that would never change. With one quick scan you could tell she was still dancing because she was in great shape. Something else was different; she looked tired...restless, even. There were bags under her eyes and it was obvious that she had been crying.

"It's a little late, don't you think?" you spat out, trying to put up a wall and simmer the anger that was boiling up inside you.

"I know..I know it is," she took a step closer.

"Yeah, it fucking is! Three years, Brittany. It's been three fucking years and I haven't heard from you once."

Your words seemed to take the air right out of her lungs. She paused for a second. Her hands were shaking so she put them in her pockets and continued,

"All I'm asking for is a chance to explain. If you let me explain I won't bother you again, I promise. Will you listen?"

You couldn't find the right words to say. You looked at Brittany, her glassy eyes were anxiously waiting on your response. So many things were flying through your mind at once that you couldn't keep track of them. Speechless, you simply nodded.

"I made a mistake," her voice was breaking and she couldn't hold back her tears anymore. "For a long time I thought that leaving was better for you...better for us. I thought that if I left, you would be able to move on and I would be able to tour without feeling so guilty. I thought that I was protecting you."

She took another step closer and continued, "So I continued touring without you but I wasn't feeling like I thought I would. I tried to ignore it, but no matter what I did I couldn't. It just kept getting worse. The guilt turned to loneliness and the loneliness turned into the deepest depression possible. Regret became my life, and I knew I'd made the wrong choice. I should have never left," her eyes met yours and you could hear the pain and sincerity in her every word, "I hated myself for it. For months I debated coming home but I thought I was too late...I knew that if I came back and you were with someone else I wouldn't be able to handle it."

You let her words sink in, absorbing every last one. Three years of waiting was unraveling right in front of you.

"I'm so sorry, Santana. I'm sorry I left three years ago. I'm sorry I didn't come back sooner. And I'm sorry I'm coming back now, I just couldn't keep myself from you any longer," her cheeks were stained with tears. Seeing Brittany this way made you realize that she was in just as much pain as you were over those long three years. You started to think that she may have even had it worse. You took another step closer and grabbed her hand,

"I never stopped thinking about you. Not even for a day." She smiled and laughed a little, unable to contain her joy and relief after hearing your words. She took your other hand and filled the last space between you.

"Watching you sing tonight...it was amazing. You were so amazing. And the piano. It was perfect. That last song...I, I've never heard anything more beautiful in my life, San."

You smiled, "I learned it for you. It was all for you."

The blonde couldn't wait to hug you any longer. After all, she had been waiting for three years, too. She wrapped you up in her arms and you let her, taking all of her in. She was exactly how you remembered.

"I love you. I never stopped loving you. Not even for a day. If you let me, I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you," she said softly in your ear.

You pulled away from her embrace just enough to kiss her. It was just the answer Brittany was hoping for. As you pressed your lips against hers, you could feel your emptiness evaporate into the past. Electricity sparked through your lips and you were quickly reminded what it felt like to kiss your soulmate; your other half; your perfect match. She smiled between kisses and you ran your fingers through her hair. You pulled her closer, making it really count.

"I love you, too. Let's go home," you said after you felt like you had kissed her regret away.

She nodded, put her arm around your waist and began leading you back to the apartment. Smiling, you rested your head on her shoulder.

"Does this mean you'll sing for me now?"

You laughed a little and she held you tighter.

"Yes, B. Anything for you."


End file.
